


Here Be Monsters

by raiining



Series: Clint Barton: Vampire Slayer [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - High School, Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU, Buffy the Vampire Slayer References, Child Abuse, Clint Barton Vampire Slayer, M/M, vampire!Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is slowly settling into life at Sunnydale High with the help of his friends Tony and Steve, and his Watcher Fury.  But high school isn't easy, especially when its built on a Hellmouth.  Clint may be the Slayer, but that doesn't mean he has all the answers...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second of three fics planned for "Season One" of this Clint Barton: Vampire Slayer AU. Again, HUGE thanks to Ralkana for the cheerleading and Infiniteeight for the beta. They both made this better in innumerable ways.
> 
> Postings will again be Thursday/Monday as we work on getting the editing done. This story and the third episode are completed, and the season finale does "end", so no worries about being left hanging ;)

Prologue

 

Sunnydale is quiet at night. Despite the fact that the town is built on a Hellmouth, the everyday residents go about their business with minimal concern.

Mr. Carson walks his dog Ruffy under the street lights, the moon shining high over head. It’s late, but peaceful. The air is cool and clean. Mr. Carson loves living in upper New York State. He loves the scent of pine that drifted on the breeze, and doesn’t miss the bustle of New York City. His dog pauses to investigate a patch of grass, and Mr. Carson takes a long, deep breath. He smiles.

Ruffy’s a new dog, just a puppy. He’s six months old and all gangly limbs. His daughter Melissa had bought him off a friend, and then realized he was far too big for her small, one-bedroom apartment. 

Mr. Carson had been disappointed in her. He thought he’d taught her better than that; New York was no place for a dog. Melissa had responded by saying that _he_ should take Ruffy – he had the space, she argued, and the yard. Mr. Carson hadn’t agreed. Melissa had ignored him and dropped the dog off with a bow around its neck. 

Mrs. Carson had laughed.

Mr. Carson was now hopelessly in love with the thing. Ruffy was small for a labrador retriever, obviously the runt of the litter, but he had spirit. 

He’s in fine form tonight, wagging his tail as he pulls ahead. Mr. Carson has been training him, but he’ll be the first to admit he’s giving the dog too much lead. He likes to watch Ruffy explore, though – the Lord knows he can’t explore himself anymore, not with the state of his knees.

It’s normal for Ruffy to pause in his walk, to dig at the dirt or sniff the pavement. As they turn the corner onto Rivello Drive, though, Ruffy stops. His head comes up and his tail goes stiff. He growls low in his throat.

Mr. Carson looks at him with concern. “You okay there, boy?”

Ruffy doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look back at his master. He is staring straight ahead, his eyes tracking something Mr. Carson can’t see.

Mr. Carson waits on the sidewalk. He peers into the darkness. Finally he shrugs and pulls on Ruffy’s leash. 

“There’s nothing there. Come on.”

Ruffy won’t move forward though. He plants his little legs and growls again.

Mr. Carson thinks of snakes. He thinks of deer and coyotes, and other predators at night. He shivers, suddenly cold.

“Okay, boy. Okay. Let’s go home.”

He turns around.

This time, Ruffy follows him. His tail is still straight and his ears are up, but he goes. He follows his master home, nose sniffing cautiously at the air. After half a block, he relaxes. Ruffy bounds forward again, sniffing at the grass. He doesn’t growl again.

Mr. Caron starts to hum. He never could carry a tune. By the time he arrives home, he’s put the incident from his mind.

 

 

Chapter One

 

School is absolutely un-cool. Clint doesn’t know what he was thinking.

“I could get a job at a burger joint.”

“No.”

“It’s not like Tony’s charging me rent.”

“No.”

“I don’t actually _need_ my SATs.”

Fury pauses shelving books and scowls at him. “You are not quitting school, Barton. You are getting an education and you are writing your SATs.”

Clint groans at his watcher. “But _why_? It’s not like I’m going to need them. Vampire slayer, remember? I’m not gonna have time to hold down a job.”

Fury raises an eyebrow. “If you believe that, then why are you offering to find work at Double-Meat?”

Clint sticks out his tongue and flops back into his chair around the library table. “I thought sounding adult would make you listen to me.”

“Clint, you are sticking out your tongue and whining about school; nothing you say right now is going to sound adult.”

Clint rolls his eyes and fishes _Hamlet_ out of his backpack. He looks towards the library doors as Tony walks in, loud as always. 

“Hello gorgeous people – Clint, Steve, Fury,” Tony nods at each of them. Steve, sitting beside Clint at the table, looks up and smiles. 

“What is everyone doing today?”

“Trying not to flunk English,” Clint says despondently, flipping open his text. “I really hate school.”

“It _is_ a new experience for you,” Tony teases. Clint rolls his eyes and regrets telling his friends he used to live in a circus. “I can understand that it’ll take a little getting used to. But take it from the guy who failed out of MIT.” He tosses his sunglasses at Clint, who catches them without looking. “This is nothing.”

Clint perches the sunglasses on his head. “Sitwell’s a pushover, huh?”

“Sitwell’s an okay guy,” Tony says with a shrug. He ignores the chairs and jumps onto the table. “It’s Miss Carter you have to watch out for; she’s awesome and everything, but she expects you to _try_.”

“It that part you have a problem with, Tony?” Steve asks with a smile.

“It’s the trying in _history_ part that I have a problem with,” Tony corrects, but he grins. Clint knows it’s rare these days to hear Steve tease. “Her class on computers I actually enjoy.”

“You already know everything she teaches in the class on computers,” Clint says with a roll of his eyes. “You just sit there and code why the rest of us work. How’s JARVIS coming, anyway?”

“I’ve almost got him uploaded to the Mansion,” Tony tells him. “There’s a few lingering bugs in the old systems – my dad’s tech is giving me headaches. I’ll have him up and running soon enough.”

“That’s good.” Clint takes off the glasses and tosses them to Tony. “I’ll have someone to talk to when you’re lost for hours in your lab.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, but Steve beats him to it. “Talking about working for hours in the lab, do you guys know what’s up with Bruce?”

“Banner?” Clint asks, surprised. He shakes his head. “I don’t know him that well yet. Tony?”

Tony looks concerned. “I don’t know. I’m worried about him.” He hesitates, fiddles with his glasses, and then slips them into a pocket. 

“Bruce – well, he’s got it rough. He’s always hanging around school, using the chemistry lab after hours. He’s a genius with molecules – I tried to get him to apply to MIT the same time I did, but he didn’t want to. He wouldn’t leave his mom.”

Clint frowns. “He’s that smart and he’s using the high school chem lab?”

Tony runs a hand through his perpetually dishevelled hair. “Yeah. When MIT didn’t work, I offered him a room at the Mansion. This is years before I acquired your lazy ass, Barton.” He grins, and Clint throws a pencil at his face. Tony ducks. “But he wouldn’t do it.”

“His mom?” Steve guesses. 

Tony nods. “Yeah. His dad…” he breaks off, looking away. “Well, you know.”

“I don’t,” Clint says, sitting up. “His dad’s bad news?”

Steve nods. “The worst. He showed up the school once, years ago. Grade six, or something. Practically dragged Bruce out of class. We could hear Mr. Banner screaming at him, all the way to the car.”

“I used to swing by his house sometimes,” Tony says, “before I realized I was making things worse. He’s a drunk. He was a smart guy before he got fired, but since then…” Tony trails off.

Clint nods. His own father was a drunk, and a bully. Clint doesn’t remember him much anymore, except in nightmares that come without warning. He knows his dad used to hit him, and Barney and his mom. His parents had been killed years ago, when the car his father had been driving had run into a tree. It was the accident that sent him and Barney to the orphanage, and from there to the circus.

“You think things have been bad at home because he’s been spending more time in the lab?”

Tony shrugs. “I don’t know. I tried asking him about it, but he brushed me off. That’s not like him. Bruce is a pretty cool guy, despite everything. We’re usually super close.”

“He was at the Bronx last month, when the vampires attacked,” Clint points out. “It could be this is his way of dealing.”

“We all have our ways of dealing,” Steve agrees, softly. He bends his head over his textbook, hiding his face. “But if that’s what Bruce is doing, it isn’t healthy.”

“I know,” Tony says, sighing. He jumps off the table. “I’ll try to talk to him again about it.”

“No, let me,” Clint says. He stands up. “I get it – both the vampires and the crappy father thing.” Tony and Steve look at him. Clint shrugs, deflecting the question. He may have told his friends about the circus, but he hadn’t told them _everything_. “I’ll catch him after school; see if I can find out what’s bothering him.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Because you’re so subtle, Barton.”

“I can be subtle!”

“As a train,” Tony teases.

Clint throws another pencil at him. He grabs his books and stuffs _Hamlet_ back into his bag. The bag, and the pencils, had come from Tony. “Steve’s got a free period now, but I’ve got to head back to class. I’ll try to catch Bruce later.”

Clint leaves the library with a wave to Fury, who's stocking the rear shelves. He slinks into English class just as the bell rings, and takes a seat in the back. He tries to look interested, but everything that comes out of the teachers mouth sounds like gobblety-gook. Even Clint knows that _Hamlet_ is a ridiculously well known play, but he can’t make heads or tails of it.

After a half an hour, Clint gives up on learning. Bruce is in the class with him and Clint concentrates on him instead, watching Bruce out of the corner of his eye. Now that he’s looking, Clint can see that Tony and Steve are right – Bruce doesn’t look good. He’s tired, with deep purple bruises under both eyes. His hands shake when they’re at his side, but as soon as he lifts a pencil they still. Clint can’t make out most of Bruce’s scribbles from here, but he’s pretty sure the man is writing chemical formulas instead of notes on English. 

What really catches Clint’s attention, though, is how twitchy Bruce is. He glances up around the classroom a half-dozen times a minute; quick, flashing looks that mark the position of everyone in the room. Clint doesn’t want to, but he recognizes the signs – Bruce is used to being hunted.

Clint understands. He still can’t bear to sit with his back to the door. He notices that Bruce has chosen a seat near the rear corner much like Clint has, where he can see the windows, the door, and most of the students with a glance

Clint swallows past the memories that rise in his mind. This isn’t about him right now – this is about Bruce. Clint is free and living with Tony; Tony who’s got an absent father, but who's never had to watch his back the way Bruce and Clint have. 

After class, Clint follows Bruce to his locker. He makes sure to stay within the man’s peripheral vision. He doesn’t want Bruce to think he’s sneaking up on him. 

Bruce's shoulders tense, so Clint knows he's noticed him. He slams his locker door shut and turns to face Clint. “What?!” he demands.

From this close, Clint can see how bloodshot Bruce’s eyes are. “Hey,” Clint says.

Bruce just waits, watching him. 

Clint feels suddenly nervous. “I realize we’ve never been properly introduced. I mean, I’m living with Tony, and Tony’s your friend, and we should…” Clint shuts up and sticks out his hand. “Hi,” he says, trying to start over. “I’m Clint Barton.”

Bruce doesn’t shake his hand, but he doesn’t roll his eyes, either. Instead he waits, staring at Clint.

Clint swallows and lets his hand drop to the floor. “Um… well, I just wanted to say hi, which I’ve done, and. Listen.” Clint rubs a hand over his face. “Tony is worried about you. He’s noticed you’re spending more time in the school lab, and everyone can see you’re not sleeping. He’s your friend Bruce – and I’m _his_ friend, and, well – we’re worried.”

A muscle in Bruce’s jaw twitches. “I’m _fine_.”

“You say that,” Clint agrees, putting up his hands. “But you don’t _look_ fine. I just –” Clint swallows. He lowers his voice. “I grew up with difficult parents too, okay? I can help.”

Bruce’s face twists in anger. “You can’t _help_. No one can help! Not the police, not you, and definitely not Tony. I’m the only one who can do anything. I’m going to take care of this, Clint. Soon. When I’m strong enough to do what needs to be done.”

Clint stares at him. “Bruce…” he tries.

“Leave me alone,” Bruce spits. He turns and walks away.

Clint watches him go. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but no words come. 

Bruce is right – Clint can’t really do anything. He could go over there and scare Mr. Banner a little, but he knows from his own experience that it’ll do more harm that good. Bruce’s dad’ll back off maybe, for a couple of days, but then it’ll start all over again.

Bruce needs to leave – him and his mom both. But from what Tony says, she won’t go, and Bruce can’t make her. It sounds like he’s going to stay and try to fix things on his own. 

Clint sighs. Bruce is probably hitting the gym, trying to work out a little. He’s probably trying to build his strength and his confidence, but it won’t be enough. Bruce is a little guy – he’s not Steve, but he’s smaller than Clint. He won’t be able to protect his mother.

Clint hitches his own backpack higher on his shoulder. He’ll swing by the Banners place after school and do a little snooping around. Maybe he can find something to get Bruce’s dad put away for a couple of year. That would be something.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Infiniteeight for the beta on this chapter.

Tony’s gone again after school – he had an idea in the middle of fourth period and just left. Clint had thought about stopping him, but Tony had been muttering to himself about circuit boards, so Clint hadn’t bothered. Living with Tony for the past month has taught Clint how futile that would be.

It’s a nice night though, not yet November, so Clint decides to walk home. It’s funny, he thinks, as he waves good-bye to Steve, how quickly the Stark mansion has become ‘home’. Clint’s never really had a home before; he doesn’t remember his father’s house, except in nightmares. He’d never bothered to relax at the orphanage or the various foster homes he and Barney had been shipped too, because he’d known they weren’t going to last. 

The circus was the closest Clint had ever come to having a home, and it was pretty fluid. He usually slept in the same tent, but the landscape was always changing. Clint’s travelled throughout the country, but he’s never been able to ‘walk home’ before.

Tony’s given him that, and so much more. Clint doesn’t know how to thank the man. He knows he’s good for Tony, too – Tony has a habit of getting lost in his own head, and Clint can sometimes drag him to the land of the living again.

Bucky had been good at that, Clint’s been told, before he got himself vamped. Steve’s never been able to do much; he has a weapons-grade ‘disappointed face’, but it doesn’t work for long. 

Bruce had been on Tony detail at some point, but he’d fallen off the past couple of years. The way Tony tells it, they used to spend days together doing ‘science’, but things at the Banner home have been going downhill since Bruce started high school. He hasn’t been coming over much any more.

Clint slows his steps once he reaches Bruce’s street. It’s a quiet, friendly neighbourhood with neatly spaced homes and mostly tidy yards. It looks much the same as the rest of Sunnydale – pretty without being perfect.

Clint strolls casually past the Banner house – it’s a yellow home with faded siding, two levels, and a 2005 civic in the driveway. Clint watches the windows, but he can’t see any movement inside.

He gets to the end of the street and loops around, jumping into a backyard and sneaking back to the Banner house. The yard is filled with dry, dying grass, and the short deck is littered with empty beer cans. Clint sees the label on one and has to fight down the hard press of memories – his father used to drink Molson, too. 

The backyard is as empty as the front. Clint darts to a window and looks inside.

He peers into a kitchen. It’s reasonably tidy, with paint that hasn’t been changed since 1970. It’s dark and empty, though. Clint thinks he can see the flickering of a television coming from down the hall. He tries a few other windows before finding one looks into the living room.

There’s a man sitting in an armchair in front of the television, and it’s clearly Bruce’s father. His face is the same shape as Bruce’s, but his hair is darker, his nose longer. It looks like he’s sleeping.

Clint glances at the TV – infomercials; something about a ‘new revolutionary formula for a younger, healthier YOU!’ Clint looks back to the armchair.

Mr. Banner is awake and staring at him. His eyes glitter.

Clint yelps and ducks beneath the window. He waits, heart pounding, but nothing happens. He swallows and slowly stands back up, looking through the window. Mr. Banner is gone.

Clint stills, listening hard. There is a _thump thump thump_ from inside the house, but it sounds as if someone is going downstairs, not coming outside. Clint looks for a window into the basement without success – every one has been boarded up.

He hangs around for another couple of minutes, but by then it’s starting to get dark. There’s no sign movement, so Clint gets up to leave. Bruce must be staying late at school tonight. Clint doesn’t know where Mrs. Banner is.

He circles around to the front of the house and leaves via the driveway. He walks down the street in the direction of the Stark Mansion. The rest of the houses on the street are stirring, lights coming on from within. Clint watches people go about their lives. It feels surreal, like he’s watching a dream, but it’s his life, now.

He has a sudden, fierce desire to protect these people – to keep them safe. The world is filled with magic and monsters, and no one here as any idea how much danger they’re in.

The thought leads him to Bucky. Clint has been looking, but he hasn’t caught hide nor hair of the newly turned vamp in the month he’s been in Sunnydale. Then again, he hasn’t seen the brunette, either, the one who got away the night of the fight at The Bronx. Clint wonders if they’ve all skipped town.

The Master is still trapped here, though. Clint knows they won’t leave him. 

A sudden roar startles the night air. Clint’s hand flies to his back pocket and his little wooden knife. He has a moment to wish for his bow – he needs to talk to Tony about making it more portable – before something large and green comes crashing down the street towards him. 

Clint doesn’t get more than a split-second glance. It’s big and man-shaped, and it’s clearly after him. Clint turns and starts to run, hoping to draw whatever’s chasing him out of the residential area. He hears something behind him and dares a look back – it’s _huge_. A massive green _hulk_ , some kind of monster, and it’s gaining on him.

The sun is going down, but there’s still enough light that Clint’s pretty sure whatever’s chasing him isn’t a vampire. Maybe a demon, he thinks, before he turns right at the edge of the street and leaps into the woods.

A crash from behind him lets him know the hulk-thing has followed him. Clint jumps fallen trees and tries to stick to deer paths. He’s always been fast and he’s faster since he inherited the Slayer power, but the hulk-thing is gaining. Clint huffs for breath and puts on a burst of speed.

He hasn’t had much chance to explore the woods around Sunnydale yet, but he’s pretty sure there’s a gully somewhere ahead of him, near an old quarry. He sees a break in the trees, and the bare bones of a plan flash together in his mind. 

He doesn’t have long to think about it – he’s running fast, and the monster is still gaining. Clint darts through the trees and sees the yawning gulf open up at his feet. He yells and jumps, his hands wrapping around the upper branches of a nearby tree. 

Behind him, the Hulk is moving too fast to stop. Clint throws his legs up and over the branch he’s grabbed as the Hulk goes flying by. The monster pin-wheels in the air for a moment; it looks as if it might – astonishingly – catch its balance, and then it falls.

Clint leans over, trying to catch of glimpse of whatever it was that was chasing him. He has enough time to see four flailing limbs and a messy head of hair, before the Hulk disappears from sight. There’s an almighty _crash_ as it lands in the underbrush that’s grown up around the site. 

Clint thinks he sees the monster get up, dazed but alive, and then the branch he’s hanging from cracks.

He flails, looking around for something to grab, but the branch is already breaking. Suddenly there’s an arm in front of his face and someone familiar yells, “Clint! Grab my hand!”

Clint throws himself forward. He catches the hand that’s waving at him just as the branch gives. It falls away and Clint is left hanging in mid-air.

He looks up to see Phil staring down at him.

“Give me a second,” Phil says, his expression tight in concentration. “I’ll swing you over to the ledge.”

Phil’s in the next tree over, on a branch that hangs over empty space. Clint isn’t sure how long his branch will last will two men hanging from it, so he does as Phil says. Phil swings his arm and Clint sees the ledge – it’s not far away, but it’s an awkward jump.

“On three,” Phil says. “One, two –”

Phil lets go as Clint throws himself forward, thanking Marcie for teaching him the basics of the trapeze. Clint catches the ledge and scrambles higher, the edge crumbling beneath his fingertips. Beside him, Phil swings down from his tree.

Clint gets his feet on solid ground again and collapses. He’s exhausted. He huffs out a breath and flips over onto his back. The ground is hard and cold and Clint never wants to move. He stares up at Phil, whose suit is somehow perfect despite the nighttime tree-climbing. It’s a good angle – Clint can see the planes of Phil’s face from here, and the way his shoulders fit beneath the suit. 

Clint flashes him a smile. “Good timing.”

Phil doesn’t smile back. He looks worried. “What was that thing?”

Clint shifts and groans. It’s been a while since he’s pushed himself to the limits of his new abilities, but he thinks running from the Hulk has done it. He doesn’t think he should be lying in the dirt next to Phil, though. It makes him feel juvenile.

Still, it takes him a moment to climb to his feet.

“The hell if I know,” Clint says. He tries to brush the dirt from his jeans, but it’s a lost cause. “Didn’t look like a vampire, obviously. Maybe a demon?”

“Maybe,” Phil says, but he doesn’t look convinced. “More like an abomination.”

“That’s a good name. I was just calling it the Hulk.”

Phil gives him a small smile. “I think I like that one better.”

Clint smirks. “So I get to name things now?”

“Just this once.”

They stare at each other for a second, grinning, before Clint slaps a hand over his face and groans. “Aw shit – my textbooks.”

He backtracks through the woods until he finds his bag, and Phil follows him. Clint vaguely remembers ditching it before he hit the forest, trying to squeeze out every inch of speed. The bag is lying in a pile of mud at the end of the street. 

Clint picks it up with a sigh. “Great.” The mud has leaked through the bag and soiled his geography text book. _Hamlet_ has, unfortunately, escaped unscathed. “If I had to destroy a school book, why couldn’t it be something I despised?” 

Phil looks at him with an odd expression. “You don’t like _Hamlet_?” 

Clint glares at the book. “It makes no fucking sense.”

“ _Thou know’st ‘tis common; all that lives must die, Passing through nature to eternity,”_ Phil quotes softly.

Clint stares at him. After a second, he shakes his head. “Well, it sounds sexy as hell when _you_ say it. When I read it, all I get is Greek.”

Phil smiles. “Shakespeare is meant to be spoken out loud.” He hesitates for a moment. “I could tutor you, if you like?”

Clint thinks about it for a second. On one hand, he still doesn’t know Phil very well – they’ve run into each other a few times when Clint’s been on patrol, and Phil’s never said much. He usually offers some cryptic advice and then leaves. When Clint follows up, he finds a newly risen batch of vampires or a gaggle of demons, or nothing. 

More often than not it’s nothing.

But on the other hand, Phil has somehow gotten _even more_ ridiculously attractive in the weeks they’ve been semi-sorta hanging out. Every time he’s tried to ask Phil who he is or where he comes from – or how he knows so much about vampires – he’s been shut down. Maybe it’s time for subtly.

Also – it’s _Hamlet_. It really can’t get any worse.

“That would be awesome.” Clint grins. “Did you major in English or something?”

Phil gives him a strange half-smile. “Or something.”

“Well, I’d be pretty fucking grateful,” Clint says. “I need all the help I can get to pass this class.”

He shoves his books back into his bag and starts to walk towards Tony’s. Phil hesitates for a moment, and then follows. “How is school going?” he asks carefully, as if unused to small talk.

He probably is. He’s certainly never tried it with Clint before.

Clint shrugs. “Pretty good, over all. I mean, I don’t exactly have a lot of experience with this stuff, but math is actually pretty cool. I get physics, and I’m okay in chemistry. Biology is sort of interesting, and geography is survivable because of Tony. Spanish isn’t an issue – it’s mostly conjugating verbs, and I’ve done enough of that on the road. But English?” Clint shakes his head. “English I don’t understand at _all_.”

“You’re doing very well, considering your lack of experience in formal education,” Phil says. 

Clint glances at him. It’s another mystery for the box, how Phil knows his history when the only people Clint’s talked to about it are Tony and Steve. “One day you’re going to tell me how you know so much about me.” 

“One day,” Phil agrees. He’s silent for another few minutes as they walk back to Tony’s house. Sunnydale is dark and quiet around them. It makes Clint acutely aware of how close together they’re walking, how Phil feels in his space. He feels no urge to move away. 

“I should stop here,” Phil says, when they reach the outskirts of town. Clint can see the Stark Mansion just down the road. There aren’t any vampires around, even though it’s pitch-dark. Maybe the Hulk scared them off.

“Thanks for the help,” Clint says awkwardly, when they pause.

“Be careful,” Phil warns. “I don’t know what that was. You should watch your back.”

“I will,” Clint promises. He hesitates. Phil is standing just a shade too close, looking at him. Clint licks his lips. It almost feels as if Phil is walking Clint home from a date, like he could lean in for a kiss now. “You, too,” he says, unwilling to let the moment go

“I’ll be careful,” Phil agrees. It’s dark, but Clint thinks he sees Phil glance at his mouth. 

It’s enough to make Clint take a quick breath in, wondering. Phil must catch the reaction, because he steps back. His face closes down and he puts his hands into the pockets of his suit. His voice, when he speaks, is distant. “Have a nice night.”

“Yeah,” Clint says. He ruthlessly crushes the frisson of disappointment he feels. “’Night, Phil.”

Clint turns and walks up the road. Behind him, he hears the quiet rustle of cloth. He isn’t sure if Phil is watching him, or walking away.

Clint doesn’t turn around to check.

 

*

 

“So he just – showed up? All mysterious? _Again_?” Tony whines incredulous. 

Clint nods. He’s told his friends about Phil before. Steve had been concerned, unsure if they should trust this mystery man who knows too much about Clint. Tony has always been more focused on other things

“He’s still hot, though, right?” Tony asks.

Clint bites his lip. Tony looks crestfallen. “He’s gotten old and wrinkly?” 

“No!” Clint shakes his head. “No, he’s still hot, but he’s – untouchable. I don’t even know what he thinks of me. He probably considers me some dumb kid he has to watch out for.”

Tony eyes him thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so. I bet he wants to jump you, but he’s afraid to make a move because he’s, like, thirty.”

Clint makes a face. “He’s not thirty, he’s – actually, I have no idea how old he is,” Clint admits. “He’s timeless. I don’t know. He offered to coach me in English.”

“Oooh,” Tony says. “He definitely wants to jump you.”

Clint shakes his head, blushing. “I just think he feels sorry for me. I don’t know – he’s got this wall between himself and the rest of the world. I swear dirt doesn’t cling to him.”

“I bet you want to do a lot more than _cling_.” Tony leers. 

There isn’t a lot Clint can say to that.

The thing is – he _likes_ Phil, but he’s not sure why he likes him. He’s always had a thing for older men, and Phil is gorgeous in a devastating kind of way. But Clint’s not sure; there’s something else about him. Something dangerous.

Clint can admit to himself that the sense of danger is as attractive to Clint as Phil is himself. The aura of mystery doesn’t hurt.

“Could we please focus on the monster you ran into last night?” Fury asks. He sounds bored, but Clint can see the flicker of some emotion in his eye. He hasn’t gotten a straight answer from Fury regarding Phil yet, if he knows the man or not. 

“You said it was vaguely man-shaped, and green?”

Clint nods. “Yeah, and it was _huge_. Easily eight or nine feet tall.”

“But not a vampire?” Steve is very focused on that point.

“Not a vampire,” Clint confirms. “The sun wasn’t fully down yet, and I’ve never seen a green vampire before.”

“Vampires are demons who have taken over a human host,” Fury agrees. He’s rifling through books, an expression of concentration on his face. “They appear human except for when feeding or under duress. They cannot change their form or grow in size.”

He closes the book he’s looking through and flips open another. “I can’t find anything matching your description, Clint. You’ll have to get a better look.”

“Can’t we just kill it?” Tony asks. “Stab it through the heart, or cut of its head or whatnot? That should do it, right?”

Fury sighs and rubs the skin above his eye patch. “Theoretically, yes. But it’s not a good idea to go killing things on the supernatural scene without evidence – there are good demons out there, Stark. Not very many of them, but they do exist.”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever it was, it went after Clint. That’s proof enough of evil for me. But if you want to do research, you do research. I’ll see what JARVIS can dig up.”

“I’ll look for it on patrol tonight,” Clint promises. “I don’t know how close I’m gonna be able to get if I find it, though. That thing is fast.”

Fury thinks for a moment. “We might be able to do a containment spell,” he finally says. “That would hold it in a single location for a short period of time.”

“You can do magic?” Steve asks. He looks intrigued.

Fury shrugs. “I’m not much of a mage, but I can manage the basics. Do you want to help?”

Steve looks excited. “Definitely. I can’t do tech-stuff as well as Tony, and I can’t fight like Clint, but I want to be able to help. What do you need?”

“First a spell, and then a list of ingredients. It’s difficult without knowing what kind of creature this Hulk is – if we did, we could tailor the spell to it specifically. We’ll have to search for something broad-based that can hold it for a short while. I’ll get a list of books and we can search for the proper spell.”

Steve nods, looking interested in something for the first time in too many weeks. Clint feels a pang to realize how much he’s been hurting over Bucky.

“You guys do that,” Clint says. “I’ll take my stuff and go on patrol.”

“Be careful,” Stark says as Clint gets up to leave. “You got the phone I gave you?”

Clint gingerly holds up the newest StarkPhone, almost ridiculously thin. “I feel like I’m going to break this thing.”

Tony makes a face. “Yeah, I know. Slayer strength and everything. I’m working on an alloy that’ll interface with the smartscreen, but that’s taking some time. Just be careful with it for now and call us if you get into any trouble.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge THANK YOU to infiniteeight for betaing this chapter and cheerleading me through the editing process with wonderful comments. You are the bestimest.

Clint hits his regular patrol circuit, looping around the city limits and through the various cemeteries scattered around town. The main one is by The Bronx, but there are several others. Clint hits them first, then heads downtown.

He walks through the streets and then ducks into the trees. He finds two vampires, one stalking the late-night coffee shop and the other climbing up from the sewers. Both are young vampires, newly made, and Clint dispatches them easily. He keeps his an eye out for Bucky and the brunette from The Bronx, but he never sees them.

He watches for the Hulk too, but he’s found nothing so far. He’d tried to backtrack the monster during the fading light of day, but couldn’t find anything. Until the Hulk had crashed through the trees, there’d been no obvious trail. Clint looked for sewer ducts and electrical access, but everything is too small. Clint wonders if maybe the Hulk is some kind of shape-changer.

He finishes his patrol at the big cemetery downtown. It’s peaceful there, and after a month Clint even recognizes some names. He’s passing _Mary Henderson, 1928-1999_ when a vampire attacks.

It’s an older vampire, not a fledgling, and she catches Clint off-guard. He’d been walking with his bow rady, but she jumps him from behind a tall tombstone and it goes flying out of his hands. 

Clint blocks her next shot, a round-house kick, and dodges the head butt she throws at his face. He gives her two hard jabs of his own, pushing her back, and goes for the wooden knife he keeps at the small of his back.

She whips around before he can reach it, lightening fast, and kicks Clint solidly in the chest.

He crashes backwards over a tombstone, flying head over heels. He’s lying on the cold ground for a moment, getting his breath back, when a familiar voice says, “Hello.”

Clint squints up at Phil, currently upside-down from Clint’s perspective. There’s a screech and the vampire attacks. She ignores Phil and jumps on Clint. He brings up his arms to protect his face, and flips her so she’s on her back. Clint hits her twice, right in the fangs, and then she’s dazed enough that he can reach for his knife.

He has it out and is plunging it into her chest before she can recover. The vampire snarls at him, but then grimaces and explodes into ash.

Clint sneezes. 

Phil chuckles, and Clint looks up. He’s never heard Phil laugh before. It’s a pleasant sound.

“Sorry,” Phil says, sounding insincere. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”

“You didn’t,” Clint protests. He gets to his feet and goes to find his bow. She’s lying in a patch of grass and looks intact. He checks her over, satisfying himself that she’s okay. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

“A good surprise?”

“That depends,” Clint teases. “Did you bring _Hamlet_?”

Phil holds up a copy of the play. Clint groans dramatically. “Then no, I’m not pleased to see you. Go away.”

Phil’s smile lights his face. “It’s not that bad, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you,” Clint grunts. “You’re like Emile the fire-walker, you lie every time.”

“You took lessons from a fire-walker?” Phil sounds curious.

Clint shrugs. “Kinda. I was eleven and kind of a dick kid. I wouldn’t blame him if he stoked the coals extra hot just for me.”

Phil bites his lip and grins. Clint finds himself smiling back. They stare at each other for a moment, before Clint coughs and looks away. “So, _Hamlet_?”

Phil nods and looks down at his book. He looks a little nervous. “I – ”

“Hey,” Clint interrupts him, getting a better look at the text. “Is that your personal copy?” 

Phil visibly squares his shoulders. “Yes.”

“Wow,” Clint holds out his hand, and Phil hands him the book. It’s thin and obviously well loved; the pages are dog-eared and worn. Clint flips through. There’s neat hand writing on nearly every page, sections underlined once or twice. The writing is spidery, elegant. Clint looks up. “You made notes?”

Phil licks his lips and glances away. “I enjoy Shakespeare. He understood the human condition.”

Clint makes a face. “I wouldn’t say we have a _condition_. I mean, I know we have issues, but –”

Unexpectedly, Phil laughs. “No, I meant – Shakespeare understood humanity. The human process of thought, how they – we – feel. He wrote about that.”

Clint cocks his head and sits down on a headstone. “Is that what _Hamlet_ is about?”

Phil nods, and then shakes his head. He leans back against a stone of his own, across from Clint. “Sort of. What do you know about the story?”

Clint thinks. “Um – Hamlet is the prince of some country, not England. And he’s, I don’t know, away or something, and his dad is killed. Hamlet talks to his dad’s ghost – which, _weird_ – and agrees to kill a lot of people. And then a lot of people die.” Clint shakes his head. “That’s basically it.”

Phil smiles. “You’ve got the beginning mostly right – Hamlet is the prince of Denmark, his father was king and he was murdered by his brother. Even the uncle knows this was wrong. _O, my offense is rank it smells to heaven; It hath the primal eldest curse upon’t, A brothers murder._ ”

“So he feels bad for killing his brother and marrying his wife and taking over Denmark, but that doesn’t stop him from being King?” 

“No. As Hamlet says, _That one might smile, and smile, a be a villain; At least I’m sure it may be so in Denmark._ ”

“I hate that kind of double-talk,” Clint agrees. “I think I’m on Hamlet’s side in this one. What’s the point of it, though? I get that in geography I have to learn geography, and in math and physics there are equations to memorize and understand. But I don’t understand what the point of English class is. ‘Hamlet was an okay guy, he tried to do the right thing, but everyone died anyways’. Is that it? Is that the point?” 

“Maybe,” Phil admits. He tips his head back and smiles. The graveyard around them is quiet. “A lot of people do die in this play – only Horatio, who is Hamlet’s only true friend and never betrays him, lives. Everyone else dies. Some, who are simply doing their duty, like Hamlet’s young lover Ophelia, die off-screen. Some, like Claudius the uncle, who started everything, die painfully on-screen. Even Hamlet, who is trying to avenge his father, dies. There is a theme of intense mortality in this play.”

“Then it’s depressing as hell.”

Phil grins. “Perhaps. It’s interesting, though – the play is getting ready for Hamlet’s bloody revenge, only it stops time and time again because Hamlet struggles to take action. Ultimately, there are three separate plots for revenge, all involving sons seeking vengeance for their fathers’ murders. One has to wonder if it was all really worth it in the end.”

“Is that why you like it?”

“Sometimes,” Phil admits. “I’ve read it often, and seen it performed a few times. Each time something new strikes me. For example, there is also a theme of madness, both real and feigned, in the story. I also find the relationship between Hamlet and his mother fascinating.”

Clint sighs and looks at the book. “I don’t know, I guess it sounds okay. You make it sound a lot better than the teacher does, at least.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and then Phil says, in a low voice, “There is also an ongoing theme of deception. Hamlet despises lies and craves honesty, but he lives in a world where it is not always possible to tell the truth. This… frustrates him.”

Clint licks his lips and looks up. “People could just say what they mean,” he suggests, quietly. “It would save everyone a lot of time.”

Phil smiles with half his face. “Maybe,” he agrees. He stands up. “Hamlet would certainly agree with you. Are you done for the night?”

Clint stands with him, glancing around the graveyard. “Yeah. Three vamps and no sign of the Hulk – I think I’m going to call it a night. You?”

Phil shrugs and avoids his eyes. “I’m not sure. I think I’ll do a little more digging – this Hulk worries me.”

“Tony and Fury are on research duty, and Steve is helping, too. Whatever it is, we’ll find it.”

“You have quite a lot of faith in your crew.”

“It’s weird,” Clint agrees, “to have friends who get this. But it’s also nice, you know?”

Phil smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Not really.”

Clint shrugs with exaggerated care. “You should meet them, sometime. I mean, Tony isn’t convinced you even exist.”

“Your friends think you made up some strange man you talk to in graveyards?”

“A strange man whose saved my life twice now, is kinda nice to talk to, and pretty hot.” Clint scuffs the ground, looking away from Phil. “So, yeah, they’re a little curious.”

He doesn’t need to look to hear the smile in Phil’s voice. “Maybe I want you all to myself.”

“I’m easy to share.”

“You really aren’t.”

Clint has to look up then. He stares at Phil, who watches him back. Clint licks his lips, and Phil’s eyes track the movement. 

A muscle clenches in Phil’s jaw. “I’m… I’ll...” He steps back. “I will let you know if I find anything.”

Clint can’t look away. He watches him leave. “Sounds good.”

Phil continues to stare at him, even as he walks away. “I could meet you here again, though?” He sounds hesitant. “Tomorrow night?” 

Clint nods and doesn’t break eye contact. “It’s a date.”

Phil gives him a single, sharp nod, and then turns. Clint watches him cross the graveyard to the tree line. Without looking back, Phil enters the forest and disappears.

Clint breathes out, feeling as if he can move again. After a moment, he grins.

He has a _date_! 

 

*

 

“I have no freaking idea what this thing is,” Tony says. He flops onto a chair in the library. “JARVIS has no freaking idea. It’s a complete utter mystery!”

Clint meets up with the group in the library before class. His own personal glow of ‘I have a hot date tonight’ is interrupted by the scene of supreme frustration Tony is creating in the corner.

“What I need to do,” Tony declares, “is digitalize all this information.” He waves a hand at the texts Fury has scattered half-open on the library table. “Then I could search it all much more efficiently.”

“You get right on that, Stark,” Fury growls, his nose in a book. “And when a demon is released into the computer and comes to eat your face, I will do nothing but laugh.”

“There isn’t a demon that would eat my face. Is there? JARVIS?”

“I would not know, sir.” JARVIS sounds prisser than usual.

“Tony, take a break, you’re pissing off your computer,” Clint says, trying to refocus the obviously meandering conversation. “Fury, you’re going to need glasses if you keep that up, or maybe a monocle. Steve, any progress on the capture spell?”

Steve’s forehead wrinkles. “Maybe? It’s hard to say without practice, but we definitely have a starting point. Did you find the Hulk last night?”

Clint shakes his head. He thinks for a moment about mentioning Phil, but this clearly isn’t the time. 

“No, nothing. I think tonight I’ll –”

He’s interrupted by an enormous, reverberating _boom_. The building shakes, dust raining down from the ceiling. Tony and Steve start, but Fury leaps up from his chair. He and Clint share a look before running run to the library door. 

That felt like an explosion.

The hallway is full of students – most people are just arriving for the day. There is a plume of dust settling from the east-side corridor, though, and students are looking in that direction.

Tony makes it to the doorway and swears. It takes Clint a moment to realize what Tony has already surmised – the blast came from the chemistry lab.

Tony takes off first, but Clint easily catches up to him. Together they push their way through the mass of students to reach the chem lab. The doors fly open before they can reach them, thick smoke billowing into the corridor. Bruce lurches out of the haze, coughing and hacking. 

“Bruce!” Tony shouts. He runs forward and catches his friend. Clint stares at him – Bruce has lost both eyebrows, and his skin and clothes are scorched. The chem lab is in flames. Clint grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall and aims it at the Bunsen burner that seems to be the source of the explosion. 

“No!” Bruce shouts, lunging forward. “My research!”

“It’s in _flames_ , Bruce!” Tony holds him back. “Let it go!”

“NO!” Bruce cries. Clint ignores him and turns on the fire extinguisher. The flames are starting to lick at the ceiling; he really has no other choice.

He sprays the bench, but it’s too late – the smoke reaches the fire nozzle, and suddenly the alarm is sounding. Cool water hisses and spits over everything, drenching the lab bench already smothering beneath a thick layer of foam.

Bruce hiccups in Tony’s arms, his dark hair plastered to his face by the sprinkler.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Tony is saying, rocking him gently. “It’s okay.”

Principal Sitwell appears shortly after. “May I inquire why the three of you are not obeying the fire rules and joining your classmates outside? Mr. Barton? Mr. Stark?”

“Sir,” Tony says, standing up stiffly. “It was my fault, I was working on –”

Sitwell sighs. “As much as I understand your heroic urges, Mr. Stark, I know very well that Mr. Banner is at fault. Bruce,” the Principal looks kindly at the little man, hunched in a miserable ball at Tony’s feet, “we’ve had this discussion before. You were free to use school equipment so long as none of your experiments were dangerous. I’m afraid this one quite crossed that line.”

“Yes, Principal Sitwell,” Bruce says. He’s staring at nothing, his face eerily blank.

“I afraid there will be a bit of trouble from this, Bruce. I’ll do my best to protect you.”

“Yes, Principal Sitwell,” Bruce says again. He sounds broken.

Tony looks upset. He’s reaching down to his friend when Sitwell stops him. “Please, Mr. Stark. I’ll ask you and Mr. Barton to kindly leave.”

“But, sir –”

“ _Now_ , Mr. Stark.”

There’s an edge of steel under the Principal’s voice, so Clint takes Tony’s arm and hustles him away. “We’re going, sir,” he says.

Sitwell nods at him. “Thank you, Mr. Barton.”

“Clint!” Tony hisses.

Clint doesn’t release pressure on Tony’s arm, using his superior strength to literally haul the older boy away. “Bruce is in enough trouble without you making it worse!”

“I can _help_!”

“You can,” Clint agrees, “by supporting him and being his friend. But he did something really stupid today, Tony. You have to see that.”

Tony looks like he wants to protest, but he can’t. His face falls.

“I just don’t know what the hell he was _thinking_.” Tony shakes his head. “He knows better than to use volatile chemicals at school! Losing access to the chem lab is going to literally destroy him – he wouldn’t risk that unless he had to.”

“I went by his place last night,” Clint admits. “I saw his dad. He looked like a deadbeat, but I didn’t see anything else.”

“I’m going again tonight,” Tony says. He looks determined. “I don’t care if it makes thing worse – they’re already fucked as hell. I’m going to walk right up to that front door and ask to see Bruce. Knowing his dad, he’ll lock him in the basement for a week without food for this. I can’t let him get away with that.”

“No one is going to let him get away with anything,” Clint promises. “Wait until after school and I’ll come with you, okay?”

He thinks for a moment of Phil and his hot date, but then shakes his head. This is obviously more important.

Tony hesitates, but then agrees. “Fine. Meet me outside at four.”

 

*

 

Four o’clock comes and goes, and Tony is nowhere to be found. 

Ms. Carter finds him loitering by the front door. She’s obviously been working late, a cold cup of coffee in her hand.

“Mr. Barton,” she says, surprised when she finds Clint outside. 

Clint gives her a smile. He likes Ms. Carter, the teacher Tony still has a crush on. She wears old-fashioned tweed and looks like she came from the nineteen forties, but she’s got the accent to pull it off. “Hey, Ms. Carter. Working late?”

“I could ask the same of you,” she replies, lifting an eyebrow. 

“I’m waiting for Tony,” Clint admits. “You haven’t seen him around, have you?”

Miss Carter shakes her head. “No. When you find him, though, please tell him that a genius-level IQ does not mean he has permission to skip my class. I expect to see him tomorrow.”

Clint gives her a tight smile and she leaves. He watches her go, thinking. Tony doesn’t like to skip Carter’s class – if she hasn’t seen him, he probably left hours ago. Maybe he’s already at Bruce’s house.

Clint walks the few blocks to the Banner residence. He rings the doorbell, but no one answers. He walks around to the back and peers into all the windows again, but it’s quiet. No one is watching TV tonight.

Clint lingers for a bit, but its starting to get dark. Clint tries calling Tony, but the phone goes straight to voice mail. Clint frowns – it would be just like Tony to have forgotten their plans and locked himself in his lab, but that doesn’t feel right. Tony was really upset about Bruce this morning. Clint doesn’t think he would forget.

Still, he’s not around. Clint wishes JARVIS were up and running, so Clint could call him at the house and ask if Tony’s there. As it is, he might as well walk home. And if he’s walking home, he might as well walk through the cemetery and get a quick patrol in.

And if he happens to run into Phil – well. That’s just a bonus.

Phil isn’t there, though. Clint delays as long as he can, spends an extra hour patrolling and kills two vamps, but Phil’s nowhere to be found. So much for his hot date.

He’s half-way home when he hears the tell-tale roar of the Hulk. Clint stops and looks around, already reaching for his pocket. He doesn’t see anything yet, but the Hulk is definitely near-by.

Steve answers on the first ring. “Clint?”

“It’s here,” Clint whispers. “Somewhere close. Do you and Fury have that containment spell ready?”

“Yes,” Steve promises. He sounds nervous, but he’s sure. “Where are you?”

Clint gives him the location. There’s another roar, and he looks around. He could have sworn the sound came from the next street over.

“Fury is getting the supplies now. He’s going to drive – we’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Hurry,” Clint says. He hangs up the phone.

Clint’s adrenalin is flowing, the roaring sound triggering a deeply ingrained instinct to run. His feet itch, but he has to wait for Fury and Steve. He knows how fast the Hulk can move – if he takes off and the Hulk chases him, they’ll be long gone before Fury and Steve arrive.

Desperately, Clint looks around for Phil. He hadn’t realized he’s expecting the other man to show up and help until its clear he’s not going to. The streets around him are empty, the air frozen in anticipation. Clint wishes for his bow.

The roaring comes again, closer now, and Clint has a second to whip around before the Hulk bursts onto the road. It looks bigger up close, a huge green monster with bulging muscles and a shock of black hair. Clint gives in to his primal instinct and runs.

He takes a corner, going hard, and doesn’t have to look back to know the Hulk is following him. He can feel the pounding beat of its footsteps, echoing through the pavement at his feet. 

Headlights shine in front of him, and Clint waves his arm to warn the car away before he realizes its Fury. The car spins around and the passenger door pops open. “Get in!”

Clint dives into the car and finds Steve in the backseat. He’s holding a bundle of herbs and a piece of chalk in his thin hands. Behind them, the Hulk roars.

Fury grits his teeth and slams his foot on the gas. The tires spin for a second and then catch, and the car lurches forward. “We have to get ahead of it!”

“There!” Clint points to a field cleared for construction. A large sign proclaims the housing development that was planned before the financial crisis and has been stalled ever since. 

Fury jerks the wheel and the car veers off the road, bouncing over the uneven ground. Clint grabs the holy shit handle and hangs on for dear life. In the back seat, Steve is smart enough to buckle up.

The Hulk is gaining on them now that they’re off road, but Fury doesn’t go far. Once they’re a reasonable distance into the field, he stops the car. Clint throws himself out of the vehicle and runs for it, hoping to lure the Hulk away.

It works. The Hulk chases after him, growling, completely ignoring Fury and Steve. Clint’s huffing for breath, but he isn’t fast enough – the Hulk gains on him, and takes a furious swing.

Clint dodges, leaping forward. He can feel the air vibrate as the Hulk’s massive fist flies by. He rolls and throws himself sideways on instinct, just missing another powerful strike.

The Hulk’s massive body follows his fist, and he’s off-balance for a crucial second. Clint pivots, dashes forward and leaps, angling a kick at the Hulk’s rear leg. Even with enhanced Slayer strength, Clint doesn’t do much except bounce off.

“Fuck,” he swears as he climbs to his feet. The Hulk huffs out a breath that might be a laugh, and turns to swing at him again.

Clint loses the next few minutes in absolute concentration. He jumps and dodges, leaps and pivots. He pulls out every trick he knows and a few he makes up on the spot – it’s barely enough.

“Clint!” a voice shouts. For a crazy second, Clint thinks its Phil, but then he recognizes the deep baritone of Fury’s voice. “Over here!”

Clint somersaults backwards to avoid a strike, then flips himself forward and runs _at_ the Hulk. The monster stills for a moment, obviously confused by this new level of crazy, and Clint takes advantage of that hesitation. He jumps up and _over_ the monster, leaping off its shoulder and landing in a roll that quickly turns into a run. He’s picking up speed as he races to Fury’s position, even as the Hulk roars and turns to follow.

From this vantage, Clint can only barely make out the chalk circle scattered hastily on the ground. Steve is at the edge, chanting feverishly, and Fury standing behind him, obviously feeding him power. The circle edges start to glow.

Clint can feel the Hulk behind him. He shouts and leaps, vaulting over the circle to land on the other side. The Hulk doesn’t bother slowing down, ploughing right through the grass to reach him.

And slams to a stop as the circle flares.

The Hulk roars, a terrible sound, but the circle is bright blue and shining. Clint’s knees wobble and threaten to give out. He takes deep, gasping breaths, his slayer stamina fried. Inside the circle, the Hulk rages. He beats at the shimmering blue walls, but they hold.

Fury gives a weary sigh. His hands fall from Steve’s shoulders, and the little guy shakes. Clint wobbles over towards him, but Steve opens his eyes. 

“Wow.” 

Clint grins and raises a slightly shaking hand for a high five. “Good job, Steve.”

“Thanks,” Steve says. He looks exhausted, but proud. They both turn to look at the circle containing the Hulk.

“That’s fantastic, Steve,” Fury says. He sounds beat. “You have a true gift for –”

He breaks off, staring. Clint and Steve are already drawing breath to curse.

“Fuck,” Fury says, beating them both to it.

From this close, they can all see what they’d missed before. The Hulk is there, raging, and they can see the shape of its face, the colour of its hair, the sharpness of its eyes.

The Hulk.

It’s Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of characters:
> 
> Clint Barton – Buffy Summers  
> Phil Coulson – Angel/Spike  
> Nick Fury – Rupert Giles  
> Tony Stark – Willow/Xander  
> Steve Rogers – Willow/Xander  
> Bucky Barnes – Jessie/Angel  
> Bruce Banner – Amy Madison/Oz  
> Jasper Sitwell – Principle Snider  
> Peggy Carter – Jenny Calender


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to Infiniteeight for the beta - everything is better with you, darling!

The circle gives while they’re staring at it.

One minute it’s whole, a bright, shining blue, and the next it begins to fracture. The Hulk, roaring continuously while it’s been trapped, beats at the iridescent walls. They shiver and shake, giving way under the ferocity of its attack.

Fury and Steve both dive for their supplies, but Clint can see it isn’t going to be enough.

“Get to the car!” he shouts. When they don’t move fast enough, he reaches out and grabs them, dragging them to the car. Fury is exhausted and in no condition to drive, so Clint gets behind the wheel. The tires spin before they catch, and then they’re leaping across the field just as the circle walls shatter.

They hit pavement as the Hulk’s roar, clearer now, echoes in the still air. Clint winces and ducks instinctively. He floors the gas, looking back once. The Hulk is nowhere in sight. 

They make it to the school without getting pulverized by the Hulk or caught recklessly speeding by the police. Steve has recovered a little in the car, but Fury still looks tired. They shuffle their way into the library and collapse at the wooden table.

They sit in silence for a moment, each unwilling to speak. Finally, Clint lifts his head. “It’s Bruce,” he says, voicing what they all saw.

Steve hiccups. He grinds his tiny hands into his eyes.

“Why is every turning into a monster?” He asks, his voice shaking. “First Bucky, and now Bruce…” He gulps, obviously holding back tears. “Why?!”

Fury puts a hand on his shoulder. “It was his choice. Unlike Bucky, this was Bruce’s choice, Steve.”

Steve hiccups again. “You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Fury says. “This kind of manipulation – the Council has seen it before. Science mixed with magic; it’s a dangerous combination.”

“That’s what he was working on? Why he was spending so many hours in the chem lab?” Clint asks incredulous. 

Fury nods. “Most likely.”

“That’s what he meant, then, when he was talking about being ‘strong enough.’ I thought he was hitting the gym, working up his courage, but it was something else.”

The library is quiet as they digest that. Too quiet. Clint stands up and looks around.

“Oh shit – where’s Tony?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “He was going to Bruce’s after school!”

Clint shakes his head. “I waited for him, I –” He stops. “Shit. He must have left without me. Did anyone see him after lunch?”

No one had. 

“Shit shit shit. He’s probably there now. I went to the house and looked around, but the basement is boarded up. Tony must be in there.”

Steve shakes his head. “No way Bruce would hurt Tony. No _way_.”

“He’s there,” Clint insists. “We have to save him.”

“We have to save them _both_.”

“We will,” Fury promises them. “The Council has experience with this. I will contact them and brief them on the situation – if we can contain Mr. Banner, they should be able to find out what he’s done to himself, and reverse it.”

Steve glares. “What Council?” 

Fury sighs. “The Council of Watchers. They are a group of individuals who watch the supernatural world. Their purpose is to train Slayers, but they have a great deal of expertise in supernatural threats. I don’t trust them; they think they always know best, and they screwed over a friend of mine once.” He looks at Clint, who knows he’s talking about Trickshot. “That’s the kind of thing you don’t forgive.

“But they do have the expertise to deal with this, and Bruce is fundamentally human. They _will_ do what they can to get him back to normal, and they will keep him contained until then. I won’t let them hide him in a hole, Steve. You aren’t going to lose him to this.”

Steve nods, his expression serious. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

If Fury’s amused at the sight of tiny Steve threatening him, it doesn’t show. “I know.”

 

*

 

It takes them an hour to get ready, and Clint nearly loses his mind to frustration. Fury and Steve are exhausted, though, and they have to tailor the containment spell. Now that they know the Hulk is really Bruce, they can alter the ingredients. 

Clint tries to work off some of his energy by practicing with blunted arrows. He doesn’t want to hurt Bruce, but he may have to knock him out. The air resistance is different, but Fury has a practice target set up behind the library books. It doesn’t take him long to get used to the change. 

Finally, the spell is done. Fury has made coffee and hot chocolate, and Steve looks a little less pale. They pile into Fury’s car and the Watcher drives them to Bruce’s house. It’s late now, or rather early; the street is quiet and pitch dark. They park half a block away and sneak up the road towards the Banner home.

The house is silent when they arrive. No TV flickers in the living room, and the basement is still boarded up tight. They circle around to the back. 

Fury stands ready while Steve watches the streets. Clint could kick the back door open in two seconds, but they’re trying to be stealthy. He picks the lock instead, thanking Barney for the lessons as he fumbles for the tumbler. The lock catches, and Fury takes the door, ushering the two boys inside.

The back door opens onto a small landing, with three steps going up and a longer staircase heading down. Upstairs is the kitchen Clint had spied early on – dark and empty. Downstairs is blocked by another heavy door.

Clint leads the way down. The stairs creak a little under his weight, but he makes it to the basement. The door at the bottom is closed, but unlocked. Clint pushes it open.

The basement is cold, dark, and damp – and surprisingly full. A dirty bench occupies one wall, and a host of scientific equipment – beakers, burners, and glass vials of every description – litter the surface. 

There’s a muffled sort of shout, and Clint turns in that direction. Behind him, Steve and Fury are making their way down the stairs. Clint walks around the bench and exhales when he sees Tony – tied up and gagged, but alive.

He kneels beside the older boy and works out his gag. “Tony! Am I glad to see you. Why didn’t you wait for me, you idiot?”

Tony coughs. “You just answered your own question. We don’t have time for this, though.” He struggles to stand up. “We have to get Bruce.”

“Tony,” Clint puts a hand on his shoulder. “Bruce is the Hulk. He’s the one who –”

“What?” Tony shakes him off. “No – what are you? No. Bruce,” he struggles out of the loosened restraints and points. “We have to get him out of here.”

Clint follows Tony’s hand. Lying on the floor a few feet away is another bound figure. It looks up, and Clint gasps.

It’s Bruce. 

 

*

 

“What the hell?” Steve asks, even as he runs forward to help untie Bruce. “What’s going on?” 

Bruce spits out the gag once Steve loosens it. “It’s my father,” he says, his voice ragged. “He’s the one who –”

“Well, well, well.”

Clint and Steve look up as a man’s voice echoes across the basement space. Tony pauses in the act of ripping the ties from his hand, while Bruce merely looks resigned. 

“What do we have here? Heroes?”

Steve swallows and stands up. “Mr. Banner.”

Bruce’s father chuckles as he descends the last step into the basement. Now that he’s close, Clint can see the resemblance. Mr. Banner looks like an older, meaner version of Bruce himself. He’s got the same shock of black hair, the same face, the same set of his shoulders. But where Bruce’s eyes can be tired but kind, Mr. Banner’s are cold and hard. 

There are lines beside his mouth, angry etchings ingrained by scowling. He is not a happy man.

“I remember you, the Rogers boy. Scrawny, diseased thing. Here to rescue my pathetic son, are you?”

To his credit, Steve only nods. “Yes, sir.”

Bruce’s father scowls. “Don’t you ‘sir’ me, boy. That’s all they ever called me for years. ‘Sir’. ‘Mr. Banner’. Nice and polite until it came time for cutbacks, and then – _pfffft_.” He makes a disgusted sound. “Fired.”

“You don’t have to –” Bruce tries, still on the floor. “Father, you –”

Mr. Banner’s hands clench. “Don’t you tell me what I can or can’t do, boy! Good for nothing sack of shit; can’t even get a goddamn formula right. You were supposed to perfect it! I was going to sell it to that Vita company, make us rich. ‘A younger, healthier you,’” Mr. Banner quotes. He laughs. “Well, the healthier part you got right.”

His hands flex into fists again. Maybe it’s the moonlight, filtering in from the door Mr. Banner has left open, but Clint thinks he can see a wisp of green flutter under his skin.

The door. Clint blinks and glances towards it before looking away again. He doesn’t want to drag Mr. Banner’s attention to it, but Clint thinks he sees a shadow pass across the door. Fury has melted into the darkness, and Clint can only hope the Watcher has some kind of plan.

Clearly, he needs to keep Mr. Banner distracted. “Is that why you took the potion?” he asks. “You wanted to see if it worked?”

“Oh, I knew it worked,” Mr. Banner says. He’s grinning now. “I tested it, of course. It works just fine. Doesn’t do what it was _supposed_ to do, maybe, but who cares? Soon as I learn to control it, I won’t need to sell nothing to nobody no more. Who needs a product to bring to the bank when you could just,” he grins, “smash the bank?”

There is _definitely_ green under his skin now. Even as Clint watches, he can see the muscles in Mr. Banner’s arms leap and flutter. Whatever potion Bruce’s father took, it’s clearly unstable. 

Clint flexes his hands, eyeing the door. He could make it, but there’s no way of getting Tony or Bruce, let alone Steve, out before Mr. Banner attacks. Clint can see the weight of it in his eyes, how he wants to teach them a lesson for interrupting his plans. He’s seen the same expression on his father’s face.

“And now you’re coming ‘round here,” Mr. Banner says, his shoulder rippling as he paces, the monster within struggling. “Breaking into my home to – what? Rescue my idiot son? The one I don’t need any more? The one who’s nothing but a _disappointment_ to his old man?”

Mr. Banner stops. He glares at Bruce, who shrinks before his gaze. “Go ahead,” Mr. Banner spits. “Take him. Just don’t come crying to me when he proves what an idiot he is.”

He stands, as if actually waiting for them to go. Clint helps Bruce to his feet. Tony is behind them, closer to the door, and Steve is ready, waiting. Clint knows he has the spell ingredients close at hand. He needs to draw a circle, though. He can’t do that here.

They actually move one step towards the door, Clint ushering the others ahead of him, before Mr. Banner speaks.

“Although,” he says, drawing the word out. “I suppose I shouldn’t leave you all free to talk about this to whoever you choose.”

Clint swallows and pushes the others towards the door. He turns to face Mr. Banner. “You gonna brag about being a big green rage monster? You think we’re going to tell?”

Mr. Banner grins at him. “I know you will.”

He moves then, faster than Clint can see. One moment he’s standing there, and the next he’s rushing forward, his fist dashing out towards Clint’s head. 

Clint is already ducking, moving out of the way, when the blast rings out. It’s loud in the confined space. 

Mr. Banner looks shocked, surprised, like he’s never been shot before. He turns around as he falls to the cold, concrete floor. 

Fury is standing behind him, a gun in his hand. “No one threatens my kids,” he says.

Clint stares at Mr. Banner. Something’s wrong. There’s no blood, he realizes. No blood on the floor.

The older man convulses, doubling over as if he’s in pain. Clint wonders if the bullet hit his spine, but then he screams. It’s a high, pained sound, and Clint is frozen. Behind him he can hear Bruce yelling for everyone to run.

Clint takes a step backwards, and then he sees it – Mr. Banner’s skin is shifting, shivering, like before. Only instead of one or two muscles, it’s everything, his entire body, arching and jumping like it wants to break free.

And then the screams from his throat turn into a roar, and Mr. Banner’s body begins to change. It grows, like a tire pumped full of air, gaining muscle and definition, turning green and hard. Before Clint’s eyes, Mr. Banner becomes the Hulk.

“RUN!” Bruce screams.

The Hulk – it’s not a Hulk, Clint thinks, as he stumbles backwards. Phil was right, it’s an _abomination_ – tips back his head and roars. 

Fury swears and aims his gun. The shot actually bounces off the strange green flesh, ricocheting into the basement wall. Tony, Steve, and Bruce scramble up the stairs to the backyard, but Clint can’t leave his Watcher here, trapped.

He yells and darts forward, catching the Abomination’s attention from where it had focused on Fury. 

“Hey, ugly!” Clint yells. He throws a punch at the thing’s neck, and nearly breaks his hand. “Over here!”

The Abomination turns to him, aiming a fist at his head. Clint ducks and rolls. He darts backwards, up the stairs.

“You want me? Come and get me!”

The Abomination roars. He doesn’t bother charging up the stairs, just takes one giant step. His shoulders hit the stairwell walls and go straight _through_ them. The house shakes, the foundations shuddering. The Abomination gets stuck on the stairs, grunts, and pushes forward. The whole back half of the house cracks around him.

The monster doesn’t seem to care. He charges forward, swinging at Clint, who somersaults backwards to avoid him. He’s not fast enough, though, and he catches a giant fist on one shoulder. The impact takes Clint off his feet and throws him backwards. He crashes through the backyard and into a tree. 

The Abomination roars again. Clint has a moment to think he’s going to die, and then a man shouts, “Ruffy! Get back here, boy!” 

Clint shakes his head to clear it. The tree has caught him, branches cracked and snapped. He's hanging ten feet up from the ground, and from here he can see the street. There's a man running after his dog, a small Labrador retriever. It's growling and snapping at the house. The man catches the dog's leash and pulls it away, glancing back over his shoulder at Clint hanging in the tree. Clint waves him off, then rolls out of the tree and hits the ground.

The Abomination has been distracted by the dog. He roars and makes to run after it, but Clint's had time to shake his head clear, now. 

“Hey!” he yells. “Ugly!”

The Abomination turns again. He lunges for Clint, but a rock to the back of the head stops it. It roars. Over the monster's shoulder, Clint can see Tony racing away. Behind Tony, Steve is running for the street, opposite the direction of the man and his dog. As Clint watches, he fishes in his pocket for a piece of chalk, and starts drawing on the pavement.

Good idea, Clint thinks. He doesn’t like the way Tony is using himself as bait, though. Quickly, Clint takes his bow from his back and strings her, fingers flying. He reaches for his quiver and the rounded arrows he’s packed there.

His first shot hits the monster in the shoulder. His second pings off the back of his head. It’s enough to get the Abomination’s attention.

“I’m not done with you!” Clint shouts. He waves his bow so the monster knows that it’s him. “Over here!”

The Abomination shakes its head and turns, charging Clint instead of Tony. Clint dodges the hits quicker than before, trying to give Steve time without getting pulverized. Out of the corner of his eye Clint can see Bruce dash back into the half-destroyed house. He hopes he’s looking for Fury.

The monster is too fast for Clint, though. He catches a second hit on the right side and goes flying. This time he skids on the grass, and it takes too long to get his feet under him. He can’t fight the monster in a crowded space like the backyard – he has to get it onto open ground.

They’re in the middle of suburbia, though. Clint doesn’t know where he could lead it to even the odds.

On the street, Steve has finished the circle and is laying out herbs. He starts chanting. 

Tony is trying to distract the monster again. He’s flinging rocks at its head, but the Abomination isn’t going to be diverted this time. It stalks towards Clint. 

Clint tries to roll, but the monster that was Mr. Banner stops him. It kicks Clint onto his back and raises one gigantic foot. Clint flips himself out of the way, but his bows snags and gets left behind. With an almighty _crunch_ , the monster destroys it.

Clint doesn’t need to look to know his baby is broken. He feels shocked, like he’s been gut-punched, and sees red. With a cry, Clint launches himself forward, forgetting defence and going on the attack. He lands half a dozen hits before he realizes they do nothing.

It’s Tony’s shout that brings him back to himself. Bruce has dragged Fury out from the wreckage of the house, and the watcher looks as if he’s in pain. Bruce is yelling at him, though, and Fury is shaking his head. Tony’s running forward, but he’s too late. Fury raises his gun and shoots.

Bruce.

Fury shoots Bruce.

Tony cries out again, heart broken, and falls beside his friend. Clint stares, shocked, at his Watcher. He can’t believe it. Why would Fury…?

The monster that was Bruce’s father pauses. Clint doesn’t want to believe it, but he grins. He’s turning back to Clint, obviously intent on finishing him, when there’s a shattered, agonized cry.

They both look back to where Bruce is laying on the ground. He’s twisting now, groaning. As they watch, Bruce begins to change.

His shoulders grow, gaining muscle, and it’s too much for his shirt – the thin fabric tears. His legs scramble on the ground. They are lengthening, ripping open his faded grey runners. His back is bent, and his skin, easily visible through the tatters remains of his shirt, is darkening, turning green.

Bruce’s cries become a whimper, before they shorten into a growl.

“Oh my god,” Tony says in a broken voice. Bruce-the-Hulk tips back its head and roars.

The monster that was Bruce’s dad pauses. It turns back to the thing that was Bruce. It snorts.

Bruce faces him. Now that he’s staring, Clint can see that this monster – this Hulk – looks more like Bruce. It’s got a steeper chin, a shorter nose. It has no eyebrows, since Bruce burnt his off in the fire. When they’re standing side-by-side, Clint can see that the monster he’d been chasing, the one that had fought him by the quarry, was Mr. Banner. But for all of that, they look remarkably alike. 

Bruce is younger, though, and stronger. He’s bigger than the thing that was his father. He snorts, and the Abomination snorts back.

With no other warning, they charge. 

Their blows rock the quiet suburban night. Each hit releases a _whoomph_ of force, blowing Clint back. Mr. Banner – the Abomination – rushes Bruce, catching him low about the waist and flipping him. Bruce – the Hulk – falls onto his back but turns it into a roll, flinging the Abomination off of him.

“Bruce!” Steve shouts. “Throw him over here!”

Clint looks over to see that Steve has completed the circle. Power hums around him. He looks feverish and tired, but ready. 

Bruce doesn’t look up at the sound of his name, though. The fight has his full concentration.

The backyard is being destroyed. As Clint watches, the Hulk throws the Abomination into the house, demolishing another support wall. 

“Big Guy!” Tony shouts. “Big Guy! Over here! Towards Steve!”

_That_ captures the Hulk’s attention. Clint wonders if it’s the nickname, or if it’s just Tony. Either way, the Hulk looks over. He snorts, but something in his eyes says he understands. When the Abomination charges, the Hulk catches him in the chest and throws him towards the street.

Steve is waiting. The moment the Abomination crosses the circle, the brilliant blue light flares.

The monster screams. It’s a terrible, enraged sound, a cry of too-human fury. It beats at the shimmering walls, but they hold. 

The Hulk is standing in what is left of the backyard. He looks at the thing that was his father and snorts. 

Clint runs forward. He skids to a stop beside the Hulk, subtly placing himself between the thing that was Bruce and Fury.

Tony is on the Hulk’s other side. He doesn’t look scared – instead he’s proud. “Good job, Big Guy.” He holds out his hand for a fist-bump.

The Hulk looks surprised, but he raises one massive hand; Tony taps it, grinning.

Clint shakes his head and looks back. Fury is staggering to his feet but looks okay. Clint goes to find Steve. 

The little guy is wavering on the edge of the circle, looking more asleep than awake. The circle is strong, though, the Abomination contained. Clint claps Steve on the shoulder, and then catches him when he falls. 

“Whoa, there, Steve. I’ve got you.”

Clint carries Steve back to where Fury is just getting to his feet. He deposits him carefully on the grass. Steve looks to be keeping his eyes open only by sheer strength of will.

“That was a pretty dick move, sir,” Clint says to Fury, nodding towards the Hulk. “I really thought you’d killed Bruce there for a second.”

Fury gives him a ghost of a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought I did, too.” He abandons his attempt to get up and settles back on the grass beside Steve. He looks over at the Hulk, who is staring at Tony while the other man theorizes out loud, his hands waving. 

“I think our lives just got a little weirder.”

Clint can’t do anything but laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to infiniteeight for beta'ing this story!! This is so much better than it was, I'm telling you.
> 
> Episode three is written and posting will begin shortly :)

The Council guys arrive soon enough. Fury makes everyone leave, especially the Hulk, getting them out of sight before the black cars pull up to the scene. Fury pretends that he set up the circle and captured the Abomination without assistance. Clint can see from his hiding spot that no one believes him, but they seem willing to let him get away with the fiction. Once or twice, the men in dark suits scan the area, obviously looking for accomplices, but they don’t search.

One of them pulls out a book and chants a few ancient sounding words. The Abomination closes its eyes starts to snore, falling over with an earth-shattering _thud_. Fury toes a break in the chalk line and the circle collapses. The Council men bind the monster with weird-looking rope that must be magically enhanced or something. A reinforced transport truck pulls up and the Hulk is levitated inside. The men leave with a last word to Fury.

The Hulk falls asleep while they're waiting. Fury is just walking over as the Big Guy shrinks back into Bruce. He and Steve are dead to the world, so Clint and Tony carry them back to Fury’s car. Clint looks up and down the street, but the man and his dog are long gone. Fury drops everyone off at the Stark Mansion, and Clint and Tony tuck them into bed. 

Tony’s got more than enough room to house everyone, but Clint doesn’t miss the fond look he gives Bruce as he settles him in. Clint doesn’t think Tony has any intention of letting Bruce leave.

The next day is quiet. Bruce is suspended and Tony stays home with him. Clint stops by Bruce’s room before leaving that morning; Bruce looks terrible, exhausted and drawn, but there’s a lightness to him that Clint hasn’t seen before. 

“He was obsessed,” Bruce is telling Tony as Clint walks into the room. “For years, ever since he got fired. I tried to help him, and that made things worse, because I was always better at chemistry than him. He knew magic though, more than I did. We made progress. I thought, for a while, that things would be okay. They got worse, though. Mom left a few months ago.” 

Bruce’s eyes clench shut, and Tony grips his hand. Bruce grips back so hard his knuckles turn white. Clint decides to tip-toe out, but Bruce stops him.

“No – Clint, I’m sorry.” Bruce opens his eyes and stares at him. “You deserve to hear this. I should have listened to you, I wanted to, but I didn’t understand. I didn’t think anyone would believe me about the magic.” He looks so sorry, Clint couldn’t have held a grudge, even if he’d wanted too.

“I thought we could fix the formula – we could alter it so it would do what it was supposed to do, make people younger and stronger. But it was flawed. I don’t know if it was the chemistry, or the magic, but something made it… wrong.”

Bruce’s hand clenches Tony’s again. Clint wonders if he even realizes he’s doing it.

“Dad made me drink it first. The first time I transformed, I didn’t remember what had happened. It’s still fuzzy, but it gets a little clearer each time.”

“Is it only triggered by injury?” Tony asks. His voice is even, free of judgement.

Bruce smiles at him. “No. It seems to be linked to strong emotion. I think I’ve been a little dead lately, trying to keep on top of it. When I got frustrated or angry, I could feel it under my skin. I tried to contain it. My dad didn’t. The night Clint came by, he flipped. I heard him transform once he hit the street. I know he chased you, Clint. I’m glad you got away.”

Clint nods, thinking of the monster running him down in the forest, of Phil’s proffered hand. “I had help.”

Bruce’s smile is unsteady, but its real. “That’s good. I don’t know what you are – what you _do_ – but thank you for helping us.”

Clint reaches forward and squeezes Bruce’s shoulder. “Always.”

Tony grins. “I have got a _lot_ to catch you up on, buddy. Just wait until you hear all the juicy details!”

Clint groans and rolls his eyes. “I am going to avoid these startling revelations and go to school.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony flaps a hand. “We’ll gossip salaciously behind your back. Give my love to Miss Carter.”

Clint flips him the bird and leaves.

School is weird – people are talking about the police being called to Bruce’s house last night, whispering about what the old man had done. Half the house was destroyed, and someone thinks it was a bomb. It seems Mr. Banner has skipped town, and people are realizing that Mrs. Banner is gone, too. Clint wonders what Bruce will do, but he hopes he decides to stay. He thinks it’ll be good for Tony. 

Steve is at school, even though Clint thinks he should go home. His eyes still glow with exhaustion, but he has his nose buried in a book on magic. Fury limps into the library, his left arm bound in a sling.

“The boy’s got talent,” Fury says to Clint under his breath. “I just hope it doesn’t kill him to use it.”

“Steve’s stronger than he looks,” Clint whispers back. He knows it’s true. “What’s he researching?”

“Spells that work on vampires,” Fury says. He sounds worried. “Any sign of Mr. Barnes?”

Clint shakes his head. “No. I wonder if he’s skipped town.”

Behind him, Fury shrugs. “Maybe. I don’t think so, though.”

“The Master?”

Fury nods. “He hasn’t given up his dream of being free. He’ll find a way, sooner or later.”

“If he does, we’ll stop him.”

“Yes,” Fury says, his voice soft but serious. “We will.”

 

 

Epilogue:

 

“Phil. It’s good to see you. I’m surprised you checked the drop.”

Phil stops in the middle of the sidewalk and turns around. It’s dark on the street at night, the few streetlights casting more shadows than light.

Phil has his hands in the pockets of his trousers and his face is composed into a bland look of unconcern. Nick feels old, looking at him. It’s been a long time.

“With you in town, old friend? How could I not?” 

Nick nods and closes the distance between them. He has a stake in his pocket and a gun at his back. He doesn’t reach for them. Phil could kill him before he tried.

“I appreciate it,” Nick tells him honestly. 

Phil nods. His lips quirk up in a smile. “I can guess your purpose here, tonight.”

Nick waits. Phil sighs.

“You’re right, of course. I’m being stupid.”

“You’re the one with centuries of experience.”

Phil snorts. “True.” He shakes his head. “There’s something about him, though…”

Nick frowns. “You have to let him go, Phil. He’s the Slayer. I don’t need to tell you the mess you’re making here.”

Phil gives him another half-smile. “No. You don’t.” He pauses, thinking. “I’ll leave town,” he says finally. “Cut all ties.”

Nick exhales. “Thank you. It’s the best for him.”

“You’ll watch over him, though?” 

Nick stares, caught by the unexpected note of real concern in Phil’s voice. “Of course.”

“Because there are things at stake here, and the others –”

“Phil, of _course_ I’ll protect him. To the best of my ability. That’s my job.”

Phil smiles sadly. “Clint’s more than a job. He has a way of getting under your skin.”

Nick sighs. “He does, at that. If he didn’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, now would we?”

Phil grins, a wick twist of his lips. Nick is reminded, very suddenly, of who he is dealing with. 

“No. We wouldn’t.”

“You’ll leave?”

Phil nods. “I will. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

Nick shakes his head. “It would be better if you just –”

“Nick,” Phil stops him. His voice is cold. “I will tell him tomorrow. I am being very generous, here. Do not presume more.”

Nick’s voice catches in his throat. Some primal part of his brain is telling him to shut up and sit down. He swallows. “My apologies.”

Phil smiles. “Accepted.” He shoos Nick away. “Go on. Run back to your school.”

Nick hesitates. “Where will you go?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Phil shakes his head. “I won’t see you again.”

Nick releases a breath. He’s not sure how he feels about that. “Okay. Travel well.”

“I will,” Phil says. He smiles.

Nick turns to go. He’s at the corner before Phil calls out. “Nick? You need to look out for him.”

“I will,” Nick promises, again. He stops and turns around.

Phil’s already gone.

**Author's Note:**

> List of characters:
> 
> Clint Barton – Buffy Summers  
> Phil Coulson – Angel/Spike  
> Nick Fury – Rupert Giles  
> Tony Stark – Willow/Xander  
> Steve Rogers – Willow/Xander  
> Bucky Barnes – Jessie/Angel  
> Bruce Banner – Amy Madison/Oz  
> Jasper Sitwell – Principle Snider  
> Peggy Carter – Jenny Calender


End file.
